“And your brother is more than you, in this respect.”
“Yes.”
“I will associate with your brother’s unit, to the extent feasible. But I gather it is really you who will make unit policy. Suppose I differ with you?”
“Then we shall thrash it out in a private top level meeting, and a majority vote will decide the issue. Or my brother will. But we must not allow any single issue to become a wedge between us.”
“I agree, with the exception of a matter of conscience.”
“Agreed. Your conscience may become our guide.”
He kissed he again, as he had been doing throughout their dialogue. “I think a third sexual completion is more than I can manage at this time, but will you remain the night with me without that pretext?”
“You can fail to have sex with me ten times an hour, and I will remain with you as long as you wish.”
He laughed, and she laughed with him, though it was not exactly humor. She had no desire to leave him.
She remained the night, and thereafter was with him whenever it was feasible. Fourteen months later she married him in a military term ceremony, to endure as long as both wished it, or as long as both remained in the Navy. She was then eighteen, and he thirty six, twice her age. It didn’t matter. He had not yet met Hope Hubris, who had been away on a special mission. It took them some time, even after marriage, to speak of love, but as their relationship solidified, they did so.
CHAPTER 8
BETRAYAL
Two days after the marriage ceremony, they had a housewarming, and Gerald finally got to meet Hope. The two had a private dialogue, for Spirit wanted them to come to their own understanding without her interference, but they seemed to get along well.
“You are right,” Gerald said that evening. “I like your brother, and can feel his personal magnetism. I also like his dream, and not merely because it promises something for my own career.”
“I knew you would,” Spirit said. They made love, as they had been doing more often than once a week, and it was indeed love rather than sex.
Hope’s special mission had been to the troubled planetoid Chiron, and he had played his scene well and emerged not only with a medal for heroism and a promotion to 03, but a number of field promotions he had made there in an emergency situation had been confirmed. There were some quite grateful soldiers, and thereafter they began transferring into Hope’s unit as they could manage. Spirit was active doing the detail work for consolidating the unit, forging it into an efficient and responsive organization. That kept her apart from Gerald for much of them time, but they managed to have their weekly dates throughout, as required by Navy policy.
Lieutenant Repro gave Hope the next name on his list: the most brilliant unrecognized military strategist of the century, doomed to nonentity because of lack of political connections, wrong color, and wrong gender: Lt. j.g. Emerald Sheller, of mixed ancestry and 22 years old. He went on a date with her, they talked, had what was rumored to be ferocious sex, and married the same evening. Next day she joined the unit, and Spirit met her.
Emerald was a small lanky plain brown skinned woman with a sharp attitude that often rubbed Spirit the wrong way. But there was no question of her genius in her specialty. She took over management of Hope’s career, and within three years got him promotion to 04 and herself to 03. Spirit made 02 and then 03 on her own, so the two were often rivals in rank and activity. Despite Spirit’s chronic annoyance with the woman, she could not question Emerald’s devotion to Hope and his career, or her effectiveness as a strategist on both the military and personal levels. So she tolerated the annoyance, schooling herself not to repeat her unfortunate jealousy of Helse; she had nothing to gain by the loss of Hope’s woman.
Also, Hope had brought in as his secretary the lovely enlisted woman Juana Moreno, with whom he had roomed for two years before he became an officer. Emerald was hardly keen on that, as it was clear that the two still had feelings for each other, but had to let it be. Juana was a good secretary, and absolutely loyal and discreet. So Spirit knew that Emerald had a jealousy of her own to contend with.
Lt. Repro came up with another name for the unit: Lt. Mondy, a top intelligence specialist whose career was stifled because of post-traumatic stress syndrome deriving from prior bad experience. He was middle aged and pot bellied, and he needed the constant psychological support of a woman. He seemed like no bargain, but Repro said he was what the unit needed, and that he would surely pay his way, whatever it cost to get him. One of the unit’s top women would have to marry him to bring him in.
“What’s his type?” Spirit asked nervously.
“Lieutenant Sheller answers the description.”
Spirit was both relieved and concerned. Relieved because it wasn’t her; concerned because neither Hope nor Emerald would go for a dissolution of their marriage. The two never spoke of love, but it was clear that their mutual attachment was of a similar nature. “I will have to find a suitable occasion to bring this up,” she said. “It will require some finesse.”
That occasion came when the news of an agricultural riot broke. The Navy would have to handle it, because Jupiter could not tolerate any extended interruption of farm produce; if its people went hungry, there would be riots of a far more serious nature. The unit that took this on and settled it would win significant acclaim. But the potential for disaster was huge. They could have this mission for the taking, but they needed competent Intelligence in a hurry.
“Now is the time,” Spirit said, and had Juana send out word for an immediate staff meeting. It was early morning, but this couldn’t wait.
She marched into Hope’s room with Juana trailing, for the secretary had not had the nerve to disturb Hope when he was in bed with his wife. “Rise and shine, Hope! Our mission is on the horizon,” she said.
Hope came slowly awake. “What?”
Spirit couldn’t wait. “Get up, Brother!” she said, whipping the top sheet off the bed to expose the two of them naked.
Emerald woke and sat up, not at all pleased. Spirit traded barbs with her as the other staffers arrived, among them Gerald. “Have I missed anything?” he asked, perplexed.
Emerald, thoroughly annoyed, reacted with a flair Spirit had to admire. She threw back her shoulders to emphasize her breasts, which while not large were well formed, and spread her legs wide in his direction. “You tell me, sir. See anything here your busy wife hasn’t shown you recently?”
Gerald, astonished and abashed, turned away. As it happened, Spirit had shown him just as much quite recently, but he had been caught complete off guard.
Meanwhile the staff was complete. “Sit down, all,” Spirit said, and most of them sat down around the edge of the bed, thus trapping the two naked ones in the center. Then she hit them with the challenge of the mission, and the need for the intelligence man, and how to get him.
Indeed, Emerald did not take the news well. “I’m not going out whoring for personnel!” She looked directly at Spirit and Gerald as she spoke.
Spirit felt Gerald flinch, and for an instant she felt blind rage. But she was experienced in masking her reactions. The meeting continued, and the staff consensus was soon apparent: they did need that mission, and also the new officer. Even Emerald conceded that. She agreed to dissolve her marriage to Hope, but tackled him for one last phenomenal act of sex, starting even before the others had left the room.
Thus it was that Emerald brought in Lt. Mondy in much the manner Spirit had brought in Gerald. And Mondy showed the unit his power. Using his information and the expertise of the others, not only did they succeed in settling the migrant labor strike, they obtained a blanket promotion: one grade increase for every single member of the unit, from Hope at the top to the lowliest private. Hope made Commander 05, and both Spirit and Emerald made Lt. Commander 04. Only Gerald missed out, ironically, because he was not at this time directly associated with the unit. But now, with Hope ranking him, he joined, and that simplified Spirit�
��s married life considerably. She owed it in large part to the sacrifice Emerald had made, and with the issue of Hope no longer between them she found herself warming to the woman.
The unit soon expanded to become a battalion. Spirit was extraordinarily busy organizing the new lines of command and communication as its personnel roster grew. In the middle of it, Hope experienced a siege of madness, and wound up at the enlisted women’s barracks looking for sex. Spirit quickly collared Juana. “Take care of him!” The woman was glad to oblige; it was the only way she could have Hope in bed again. Spirit acted to cover up the affair, and Juana never told.
But there was one addition that was special. A woman came to see Spirit. Her eyes were deep gray and penetrating, and she moved with an odd melding of diffidence and assurance. She seemed to be about fifty years old, and she was oddly familiar, yet strange. Then it registered. “Brinker!” she exclaimed. “Captain of the Hidden Flower!”
“Please, just Isobel,” the woman said nervously. “My past is not healthy for my present.”
“Whatever brings you here?”
“I need work, and I need discretion. Will you help me?”
Spirit considered. “We did make a deal, as I recall. I won’t say I like you, but I will honor it if my brother does.”
“I will serve in any capacity, with perfect loyalty. I am competent in administration and in combat.”
“I know. You taught me to use a real laser pistol accurately. Come on; I will speak for you, but Hope will make the decision.”
Hope took only a moment to catch on. “Captain Brinker of the Hidden Flower—in drag!”
The woman grimaced. “It is the only way to conceal my identity. A necessary evil.” She glanced with distaste at a lock of her hair, and at her nails. Her tresses were shoulder-length brown-red, and her painted fingernails were color-matched. She was actually an attractive woman for her age. But as Spirit understood, she was accustomed to masquerading as a man, and felt uncomfortable in a dress.
Hope returned to Spirit. “You know this woman a good deal better than I do. Do you speak for her?”
“I don’t like her,” Spirit said, determined to be objective. “But she treated me fairly and kept my secret, and she is the most competent fighting woman I know. If she will serve you, you can’t afford to turn her down. I gave her my word not to betray her to the authorities.”
“That word shall be honored, of course,” he agreed. “But she is a pirate.”
“Was,” Spirit said.
He turned back to Brinker. “My friends died because of you.” Hope was not much for forgiveness of such murders.
“I lost my ship because of you,” she said evenly. “It happens, in war.” Spirit saw that Brinker had set him back, for the rules of war were not those of peace.
Their dialogue continued, and it became apparent that sex was at the root of Brinker’s difficulty. She was not lesbian, but neither did she like sex with men. Hope could of course enable her to bypass the Navy Tail requirement, which was probably the deciding factor. Also, this was the third time she had interacted with Hope, and Spirit knew that his magic was having its effect; the woman probably wouldn’t mind being close to him. But she also saw that Hope remained in doubt. “Bring Repro,” he said.
That meant he was on the verge of rejecting Brinker’s application, and wanted an acceptable reason. Spirit went looking for Lt. Repro, who was nearby; he was the unit’s psychologist, and she had anticipated his involvement. She quickly explained the situation, and he nodded. He would do his job. Then they went to join Hope.
“What is your advice?” Hope asked him.
Repro considered. “She was not on my list, because I did not know of her. She belongs on it. Hire her.”
Spirit managed to keep her jaw from dropping.
“But she is a pirate!” Hope protested again, clearly dismayed by Repro’s ready acceptance of her.
“Sir, you swore to eliminate piracy. You can do that by conversion as readily as killing. You must be ready to accept those who genuinely reform. This women will be a significant asset to the unit. She has abilities it is likely to need.”
Hope almost sighed. “It seems I have been overruled by my staff.” He turned to Spirit. “Hire her.”
As it turned out, Repro was right. Brinker had to remain in female guise, because that made her past anonymous, but she was absolutely loyal to Hope, Spirit, and the unit, and on occasion had excellent practical advice, especially relating to pirates. Later she was to serve on occasion as Hope’s bodyguard, when he did not want such guarding to be obvious, and later yet she even commanded a ship for him and fought against pirates. She obeyed directives without question, accepting Spirit as her superior, and was quite satisfied to fade into the woodwork when not on duty. She became a de facto member of the unit’s inner circle. Spirit had known her for years as a pirate, but now came to know her from another vantage, and her dislike of the woman faded. She was indeed an asset to the unit.
Hope had adopted an informal policy unique to the Navy, deriving from his experience as a migrant laborer: every member of the unit had to have a song and nickname bestowed by his or her associates. This had seemed foolish at first, but it had a marvelous bonding effect, and had become quite popular with enlisted and officers alike. When the songs were sung, there was no rank; every person had equal status. The songs could be quite perceptive in obscure ways. Hope’s own song was “Worried Man Blues,” and he was called Worry. Now in the throes of leadership he hardly seemed worried, but those close to him knew how much he cared about them and his mission, and though “concern” might be a more appropriate term, “worry” would do. Spirit’s song was “I Know Where I’m Going,” and those who did not know her thought it reflected her sureness of direction as Hope’s closest associate. But its real message was more subtle: “I know where I’m going, and I know who’s going with me; I know who I love, but the dear knows who I’ll marry.” That dated from before her marriage to Gerald, but its message remained: there was one she loved more, but could never marry. Her nickname was The Dear. Gerald Phist, as the master of equipment, was Old King Cole, from the song of that name, where the merry king called for his pipe, bowl, fiddlers three, and other equipment. True to the song, Gerald did requisition the finest brand of beer for the “fighting infantry,” and the enlisted personnel loved him for it. And Isobel Brinker became Little Foot, from the song “Who’s Going To Shoe Your Pretty Little Foot?”; the point being that she needed no man for that or anything else. She was able to escape both a personal relationship and the Tail because she was a civilian. There was a certain delicious irony in the fact that she did have small feet.
Meanwhile, Hope, having forged The Beautiful Dreamer’s ideal unit, got his chance to go after the pirates of the Jupiter ecliptic. The pirates had been getting bolder, perhaps running out of Hispanic refugees to harass, and had taken to raiding Saxon pleasure craft. That finally struck a Jupiter nerve, for the government was Saxon. Hope’s battalion got the mission, and made its preparations.
This was where Gerald Phist entered the picture. Logistics lacked sex appeal as a profession, but it was the lifeblood of any organization. All the equipment, from spaceships to paper clips, were in his domain. As the unit’s S-4 Logistics officer, he now had the authority to requisition the best, thanks to this pressing mission, and he knew exactly what that was. Spirit loved watching him forge an apparatus that was considerably better than it should have been, given the tight budget. Old reconditioned ships were quietly becoming superior fighting pieces. It was like providing an indifferent street fighter with a set of brass knuckles.
“If I am not careful, I could get to like you,” she murmured as they lay embraced. They had been married for three and a half years, and their delight in each other was still growing. They were now of the same rank, though he had seniority.
“Of course I tolerate you for the sake of your brother, Dear,” he said, reversing their original relationship and faceti
ously invoking her nickname. But the fact was that Hope had put Gerald back to work in his specialty, and Gerald delighted in that; he did indeed support Hope independently of Spirit’s encouragement.
“What, nothing else, Old King Cole?” she asked teasingly.
“Well, you are more convenient than the Tail.”
“I had better be!” She wrapped herself around him, making him react. She had been able to take or leave sex before, but with him she enjoyed it, and knew that he did too.
Lt. Mondy, nicknamed the Peat Bog Soldier because his mind was a concentration camp, had done his intelligence homework, and had the current information on the location of every private vessel known to the Jupiter Navy. Thus Spirit did know exactly where she and the unit were going, and what they would find there.
Thus, in due course, they zeroed in on the pirate ship The Caprine Isle, notorious for gun-running to guerrilla groups on the Hispanic moons. It was the prime suspect in the abduction of the Saxon heiress that had triggered this mission. Now they would see just how well Spirit’s organization and Gerald’s equipment worked in real combat.
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